La Petite Mort
by smoking-tulips
Summary: Monaco isn't weak, but even she would probably admit she looks the part. But with the ends of the silk wrapped around her hands, she has all the leeway and power necessary to stop his breathing. [tw: breathplay]


The piece of silky fabric around his throat tightens, and he takes a deep breath of air while he still can.  
Just moments ago the black piece of fabric covered his eyes, stealing his sight. Which all on its own was pleasurable and fun in so many ways.  
Now it's slowly tightening around his neck, making it harder and harder to breathe.

And as he take another deep breath, he knows it's now too tight to take another.

It was all his idea, but she went along with it with a smile.  
As stupid and backwards as he knows it is to think like this: he is always surprised how much strength someone so small can possess.

Monaco isn't weak, but even she would probably admit she looks the part.  
But with the ends of the silk wrapped around her hands, she has all the leeway and power necessary to stop his breathing.

And the blood flow.  
That is what he notices first.

His lung capacity is too big for the lack of air in his lungs to be any issue right now, but as the seconds tick past and the silk digging into his neck cuts of the blood supply to his brain, Norway definitively begins to feel lightheaded.  
There's a pressure building in his head that is technically impossible to ignore, but he can't really think much about it because his vision is slowly going a bit blurry at the edges.  
And Monaco is rubbing her knee against his crotch.

"Having fun?" She whispers softly in his ear, her lips brushing against his cheek as she pulls away a little again. It feels like his skin is burning. Itching to burst.  
He manages a weak nod. Wanting to tell her how beautiful she is, with her hair undone and falling over her shoulders; tickling his skin that seems a hundred times more sensitive right now and sending shivers down his spine and all the way down to his toes.

She smiles sweetly at him as she shifts her grip on the silk to hold both ends with one hand; the other hand sliding down his chest to wrap around the base of his cock, giving it a slight squeeze.

Norway closes his eyes, letting some precious air escape in a strangled moan as he shivers slightly from the sensation.  
She barely needs to move her hand to make him aroused, his senses are so heightened and everywhere she touches seems to leave a burning trail of desire and want.

He's glad there's no mirror he can see himself in right now, because he's sure he's bright red. Every second dragging longer and longer as his mind goes more and more blank. All he can think of is her and her hand around his cock.  
And how good it feels.  
How unbelievably intense the feeling is, and how quickly the warmth and pressure is building within him.

He hears her laugh. Not out of malice, but she must also find this enjoyable.  
Monaco seems to enjoy that she is in complete control of him and his release, and if the speed of her strokes are anything to go by, Norway thinks she might want to prolong this as much as possible.

He indulges her as he rolls his head backwards, feels her tug him back up and close to her once more. He tries to each out for her body, his fingers thumping as he finds her soft skin. The blood in his veins seem to be flowing harder though his entire body; everything is so much more sensitive. So much more tender.

Her lips lock with his, and if he had any breath to loose it would be gone all over again.  
All he can see is her.  
There is nothing but white noise besides her and her gorgeous smile.

"Good boy," she praises with a light chuckle, kissing his neck just above the silk as she strokes a little faster and a little harder.

He wishes he could moan, talk, tell her how amazing she's making him feel. But there is no air in his lungs and the silk constrains any sound he could possibly have tried to make.

The blood rush that hits him as she removes the silk is overwhelming.  
He hears nothing but the sound of blood flowing back to his head, but the release as she finishes him off is intense enough to make him moan as loud as his oxygen starved body will allow.

If he didn't know it to be impossible, he would say time seems to stand still.  
Stars dancing at the edge of his vision that is beginning to fade in and out of black and white.

He gasps and buckles over, thankful she's there to catch him. Support him and comfort him as he comes back to his senses.

She strokes his hair slowly as he leans against her chest, heaving for the much needed air.

"Wow," he manages between breaths.

Monaco laughs.  
"Good?"  
"Amazing,"  
"Glad to hear that, sorry about the marks…"

Norway just snorts and plants breathless kisses to her collarbone.  
"Worth it," he mumbles .


End file.
